Brian and Jasper
by TheNewIdea
Summary: Well before Quahog and the Griffins, Brian was nothing more than a dog looking for a place to call his own. From humble beginnings at a farm in rural Texas, Brian, along with his cousin Jasper, finds himself bargaining for more than he could have hoped for in more ways than one. This is intended to be a slow piece initially, it will pick up pace as the story develops.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One: Where All Stories Begin

Summer 1991

The McAllister farm wasn't exactly the best place to be for anyone, human or animal. The barn was deteriorated and in need of much repair, the wood having been eaten by termites and destroyed otherwise by weathering and rain. In addition to the barn, most of the space was dirt, and in the rainy season, mud. There wasn't a speck of green grass to be found and if there was it wouldn't have mattered, for it would only be eaten seconds later by the cows, who cared little for their predicament and continued life as if nothing interesting was happening or ever would.

Brian was sitting in the barn trying to stay as warm as possible, for it was a cold morning, the rain and wind making it more miserable than it needed to be. Brian wasn't in a particularly good mood, in part because he was sitting in the mud, and in part because as far as he was concerned, he was alone. Next to him was the horse pen, in which was Parker, the resident stallion.

"Happy birthday Brian" Parker said, leaning his head down and nudging him, begging that he cheer up, "Six months, has it really been that long?"

Brian nodded, for it had indeed been that long. The dog felt it strange that he was where he was in six months whereas with humans their progress was significantly slower. He had already developed most of his speech pattern, which was similar to his mother's, a Californian accent with a slight bit of pompousness that he inherited directly from his father, who like his mother was never around.

"What's the point?" Brian asked as he looked down at the ground, staring at the mud helplessly, "No one really cares anyway, except you. Not even Mom could be bothered with me."

Parker huffed and shook his head pitifully, for he knew that Brian was being too hard on himself for no good reason.

"Come on now Brian don't be that way" Parker exclaimed, "I'm sure she has her reasons for avoiding you. Maybe she has something planned."

Brian laughed at the notion, the thought of his mother planning anything besides the next meal was a stretch in and of itself.

"I'd be more surprised if I had six more brothers and sisters by the end of the day" Brian declared, "Face it Parker, she doesn't care about me. Hell, I don't even care about me."

Parker sighed and said nothing, he wished that there was a way to get Brian to see how important he was; the horse being particularly fond of the dog, and thus, being that his parents were essentially absentees, took on both roles of mother and father in equal measure. Parker kneeled down and gently tried to instigate Brian to play, blowing air from his nostrils and licking the mud, as disgusting as it was, off of Brian's hide.

"Stand up Brian" Parker pleaded, stopping for the moment, "You can't sit there forever you know."

"I can and I will" Brian replied, "I'm not moving until they come home."

Farmer McAllister, a man in his late 50's, the walking archetype of the stereotypical and Southern farmer with overalls, a straw hat, and a piece of hay in between teeth that he never bothered to brush, entered the barn with a slow and heavy walk. Parker looked at the clock that was hung on the wall and noticed that it was way too early for McAllister to be anything in the way of drunk, especially with a day of work ahead.

"You okay?" Parker asked, showing concern, "You don't look too good."

McAllister either did not hear him or did and did not care for he only staggered inside, stood there for a few moments and plopped face first into the mud.

"Brian, do something" Parker continued, "Check his pulse."

Brian was surprised that Parker would jump to death so quickly when it obvious that McAllister had simply passed out from drunkenness. Still, in order to humor the horse and to get him off his back, Brian complied and gave McAllister a courtesy sniff.

"He's fine Parker" Brian exclaimed, "Drunk, but fine."

Parker let out a sigh, Brian wasn't sure if it was one of relief or disappointment, he decided that he didn't really care and dropped the matter.

"Drunken bastard" Parker whispered, incredibly annoyed, "Couldn't even wait till noon."

Brian laughed to himself, he never really liked McAllister, mostly because in addition to being a drunk, he was a horrible person and abused everything that he came in contact with. The only person who perhaps a worse example of the human race was Mrs. McAllister, who, for lack of a better term, was a slave driver, especially to Parker, whom she hated with a burning passion. Brian, who slept in the horse pen often, for it was the warmest place he could find, could not help but notice large whelps on Parker's back and that for a horse, he was incredibly underfed. Despite this, Parker's eyes, underneath the bags due to lack of sleep and through the bloodshot red pupils there were rays of hope.

"Brian!" a voice, gruff and sounding as if it were gargling rocks, exclaimed, "Brian get out here!"

At the sound of this, Brian cringed, for he knew it to be his father, Coco, a dog of bad temperament and questionable methods, only interested in drinking, food, and having as much sex as possible. Part of this behavior wasn't entirely his fault, for a lot of it had to do with McAllister, who instilled him the ideology that fear and a show of dominance were the ways to power. Parker, who also heard Coco, for he was louder than he knew, could only sigh in pity and grumble to himself.

"Remember Brian" Parker said in parting, "No matter what he says, you'll always be something to me."

Brian nodded and smiled; it was a statement he heard numerous times before, and each time it was said Parker's voice choked and became sweet. Brian loved him for that, it reminded him that there were some who were worth living for; as least as far as animals were concerned. Humans on the other hand, he was not entirely sure of; if the McAllisters were the best humanity had to offer Brian saw no reason to get himself involved in any capacity with any of them. It was simply easier, and safer, to stick to animal kingdom where tendencies and behaviors were at least a known thing.

Coco was sitting next to the water trough by the cow pen. With him were Sticky and Mabel, Brian's brother and sister respectively. Walking up and trying his best not to get in the way, Brian took a place next to Sticky, who immediately pushed him down and laughed. Coco said and did nothing and only stared at the bull as it grazed aimlessly.

"Do you know about sheep?" Coco began as he turned around, bidding his children to follow him, which they did so, Brian covered in more dirt than usual.

"Not particularly Papa" Mabel answered, a bit of sass in her voice, "Why, you going to show something?"

Coco shook his head, for that was the exact opposite of what he was thinking. Sighing and sniffing the air, Coco eventually found the scent of the flock, given that McAllister was currently out of commission, and followed it southwest, towards the farm entrance.

"I'm not going to show you anything" Coco corrected as he moved, shifting the dirt underneath his paws and casually scratching his nose, "You are a house dog, it is not your place."

Mabel raised her eyebrows, confused, for if she was not to be a sheepdog than logic dictated that she had no reason to be summoned. Before she could respond however, Coco smiled and waved her off.

"Let this be a lesson to you" he continued, "Your work and your place are not your brothers. Now go, tend to your mother, she's in pain again."

Mabel nodded, seeing no point in arguing and left without another word. Sticky, concern showing in his face, whimpered and promptly stared at his father, looking for comfort as he tried to make sense of the situation.

"What's wrong with Ma?" Sticky probed, "Is she alright? What kind of pain is she in? It isn't bad is it?"

Coco groaned and huffed, annoyed by the sudden barrage of questions. If it was one thing he hated more than laziness it was needless questions, and his children had a lot of them. Whereas Brian asked questions involving the meaning of life and if he was ever loved; Sticky's line of questioning revolved around food and where his mother was. Both of types Coco absolutely hated answering, mostly because he rarely knew the answers himself and as far as he was concerned if he did not know it must not be true.

"Why do you always ask so many questions Sticky?" Coco said, gritting his teeth and ignoring the temptation to bite off his ear, "Your mother is simply going through something. A bug, that's all. Now would you likely shut up and come on? We've got work to do."

Sticky sighed and nodded, silently following Coco towards the entrance. Brian meanwhile, who had been silent until now, favoring observation and study over prodding and purposefully being annoying, could only think about how lucky he had been that he had been relatively ignored by his father; saved from the berating, at least for the moment. Reaching the pasture a few minutes later in relative silence, Coco, Sticky, and Brian found themselves on a hill, just as the wind picked up, carrying the surviving flowers and grass petals to happier skies. Lying on his stomach, Coco stared at the small sheep herd and turned to his sons.

"The first thing to know about sheep is that they're very particular" Coco began, "They'll only listen to you if they think you know what you're doing. That's why you got to show 'em who's boss."

Brian rolled his eyes and huffed, caring little for sheep and their attitudes. In truth he would have preferred to be in the horse pen with Parker, or perhaps in the house reading one of McAllister's books that he himself never bothered to read. He did not say anything of course, at the risk of being chewed and possibly beaten by his father and brother, who if insulted enough would easily gang up on him without a second thought.

"Of course they have an attitude problem" Brian exclaimed, thinking aloud, "Wouldn't you if you did the same thing every day your entire life?"

Coco raised his eyebrows in surprise; never before did he hear such a level of sarcasm and indifference before, especially from Brian. Coco always knew that out all of his children Brian was the one who was the most expressive, vocally and otherwise, in regards to his feelings and opinions. It was something that the dog knew was going to get him into trouble one of these days; at the moment it was with him, but the world was a much bigger threat. Coco growled as viciously as he could and grabbing Brian by the nape of his neck, casually walked over to the other side of the hill just out of earshot of Sticky.

"Don't you ever talk back to me again" Coco declared as he threw Brian down, once again finding himself in the dirt, "You may not like it but I am your father and you will listen to me. Especially when I'm telling you something as important as this."

Brian immediately felt a small pit in his stomach, a small tinge of guilt and shame that slowly consumed him until his mind could think of nothing but how terrible he was; how much of a letdown he had been. It made him wish that he had never been born, perhaps then, he rationalized, Coco would be happy and treat the others with some of respect and dignity. Whimpering, his courage and wit temporarily stunted by the commanding and angry voice of his father, Brian sat in the dirt and pitied himself.

"This farm is on its last legs as it is" Coco continued, now beginning to pace, "McAllister can't do everything on his own. That's why it's up to us to pick up the pieces and with your mother in labor again-"

Brian stood up at this, cutting Coco off and inadvertently causing the latter to step back a few inches, surprised and slightly confused at the response.

"Are you kidding me?" Brian exclaimed, "You do realize that you can't keep doing this. It's not fair to her, not to mention us. We're your kids Dad; you have seven of us. Isn't that enough for you?"

Coco growled and barked sharply; for he was not used to this kind of insubordination. It was everything he had not to simply snap Brian's neck and throw him in the field for the coyotes.

"Choose your next words very carefully" Coco returned as he licked his canines, preparing to bite, "You so much as breathe wrong and you're going to lose an ear."

Brian stared at his father's teeth and then at his eyes; he knew that he wasn't bluffing. He had seen this kind of behavior only one other time, when McAllister had administered vaccination shots three months before, Coco not being particularly fond of needles. It was not the kind of behavior that one needed to see, for if it continued for too much longer, the inevitable would occur- instinct would take-over everything, cognitive judgment and reasoning temporarily abandoned in favor of fulfilling immediate pleasures, goals and gains. Reading this, and knowing their meaning, from the hairs that stood up on the nape of his neck; to his legs, which were shoulder length apart and posed; all the way to his tail, which remained motionless, Brian backed off and immediately became fearful, not for his life or his ear but for the others, his mind jumping to wild conclusions and plausible fantasies. He envisioned a life of pain, for everyone involved, a life that would only bring ruin.

"That's what I thought" Coco continued, as he settled himself, "That's just like you Brian, all bark and no bite. You even so much as think about doing something like that again and you will wish you were never born."

Brian nodded as Coco ushered him back up the hill and back to Sticky; he wasn't entirely sure if his father was serious to ever act on any of his threats, but he did not want to take chances in the event that he did. Brian was beginning to understand why his father was never around- he inferenced that McAllister, with his drunkenness; as well as the workload of tending sheep and cattle, had driven his father over the edge, making him angry and irritable- for he was still at the age when he could still see the good side of bad individuals.

Coco, for his part, said nothing and only sighed in pity as he relaxed his body. Turning back towards his son, his face calm and somewhat endearing, Coco smiled as best he could.

"You've got spirit kid" he exclaimed, "Not a lot brains, not a lot of strength, but a hell of a lot of spirit."

Brian slightly wagged his tail, as a small glimmer of hope entered his heart. In his head, he knew what such a compliment meant when it was spoken, but in his heart he heard something else entirely; he didn't want to latch onto the feeling yet, but a small piece of him couldn't help itself. He thought of all the times that he had been scolded, all the times he had been ignored and forgotten and for the briefest of moments in his small and tiny heart thought that those days were behind him; what lay ahead he wasn't sure of, but it was certainly better than what was behind, a step in the right direction. Had Brian been older, or perhaps less distracted, he would have realized that these sentiments were not only wrong, but they were the exact opposite of what was coming. Trouble lay ahead, and it began just as it always when trouble entered Brian's life, with the sound of a scream.

Brian lifted his head curiously, his ears towards the sound and stared at his father, who only sighed pitifully and made his way up the hill, grabbing Sticky by the nape of his neck as he had done with Brian, the latter following as fast as he could.

"What's wrong Pa?" Sticky asked, his concern growing the longer he was denied an answer, "Is everything going to be alright?"

Coco glanced towards Brian and motioned for him to come around to his other side; Brian, getting the hint, obliged and answered Sticky, filling in for Coco, who was still carrying him in an effort to save time.

"Brian" Sticky said, on the verge of tears, "What's happening?"

Brian wanted to say that everything was going to be fine despite the fact that he knew that it wasn't; but he did not, instead he became incredibly candid, more so for the fact that Sticky was being annoying with his constant blabbing and whining, while justified, unnecessary to a certain degree. He knew that out of all of them Sticky was the most emotionally unstable, which was part of the reason why he found it easy, in the company of others, to bully and belittle. When it came to wits and other such gimmicks and tendencies Brian would win an argument almost every time, however in terms of strength, Sticky and Mabel put together, were easily formidable, to say nothing of their father.

"What do you think?" Brian returned, almost wishing that Sticky was as tough as he put on, "We got ourselves another litter on our hands; as if we didn't have enough problems already."

Sticky somehow became calm at this, the prospect of being an older brother and the realization that his mother was not going to die causing him to have a sense of self control, his sobs and wailing reduced to light whimpering. Coco, annoyed, bit down as hard as he could without breaking skin and dropped Sticky unmercifully into the ground, never stopping to see if he was injured and continuing, now at a much faster pace, towards the source of the scream. Sticky, covered in dirt, could only stare in disbelief, not really sure what the appropriate response was- if he should cry or scream or something else entirely. He did nothing, his face of perplexity and general confusion, as he sat in a small puddle of mud, speaking more words than words ever could. Brian, who remained by his brother's side, attempted to show empathy, for today was not the first day that he had found himself in a mud puddle.

"Get up" Brian said as he grabbed Sticky's forearm, "You can't sit in the mud forever."

On a personal note Sticky begged to differ, as far as he was concerned he could sit in the mud for as long as he wanted and no one had the right to tell him otherwise; especially Brian.

"Just go away Brian" Sticky declared, "Can't you see I don't want to be bothered with you?"

Brian nodded and sighed; for he was never one to tell anyone the time and place to do certain things, especially when it involved grieving and self-pity. It was better, he thought, to leave Sticky alone in the hope that he would work out his own problems in due time; so he did and left him in the mud puddle.

By the time Brian had caught up with his father, ultimately finding him in the corner of the barn, he discovered that the screaming was not from his mother but from his aunt, whose name currently escaped him, having only seen her once two weeks prior. Brian's uncle, whom everyone called Ollie, sat patiently by his wife, trying and failing to be comforting. Brian's father meanwhile, found himself lying in a pile of hay with Biscuit, who said nothing, her belly full as the later stages of pregnancy showed themselves. It would only be a few more days until she gave birth again, but for the moment she sat with Coco, looking helplessly on at her sister-in-law. McAllister, who had finally decided to get up from his drunken stupor in time to actually be useful, was busy performing the delivery.

"Just breathe dear" Ollie said uselessly, offering not much else in the way of help, "Everything's going to be fine."

Ollie's wife, whose name was Winnie (in keeping with the McAllister tradition, the second bitch always being called Winnie or a variation of it), could only gripe and scream in pain.

"Stop saying everything's going to be fine!" she yelled, "Just get them out of me!"

McAllister gently petted Winnie's head and brought his hand to her muzzle, for the time being calming her and bringing her breathing back to normal levels. Pushing as hard as she dared and then a little more, Winnie fought back the tears that were welling up in her eyes as she began to deliver the first few out of nine.

"Just a few more pushes and you're done Winnie" McAllister exclaimed, "Don't fail me now."

Winnie rolled her eyes and scoffed, for there was one thing she knew about Farmer McAllister it was that perfection was absolutely everything, even in something as subjective as giving birth. She knew that unless she gave birth to at least three sons that she would be sent to live at another farm; or worse thrown out onto the side of the road like the animal she was. The only reason she knew this was because it had happened before with her mother at Fredericksburg Hollow, another farm that, much like McAllister's, had fallen onto hard times. McAllister of course, was not the kind of man to do such a thing, for although he was drunk and cruel in many ways, he still had a heart. Winnie however, did not know this and so believed it.

Brian moved back to Parker, who sat nervously in his pen, his concern for Winnie and Ollie being more than that of McAllister, who loved her dearly. The horse wanted to break free of his pen, rush over and push McAllister aside, in order to make delivery himself. But, since he did not have arms or even opposable thumbs to carry out such a task, to say nothing of his size, Parker did nothing but fidget and worry obsessively.

"I like Ollie" Parker said unabashedly, "He's a good sort."

Brian nodded, agreeing completely, for if it was not Parker than it was Ollie that he was with the most; his uncle teaching him how to read and the basics of writing and history, as well as more important things such as standing up for oneself. He often wondered what his life would have been like, had Ollie been his father instead of Coco; he wagered that it would have been at least a little bit better, if nothing else he would at least get more attention.

"He can't be taking this as well as he is" Brian replied, "The guy's on his first litter and he's acting like she's getting a splinter removed."

Parker shrugged, or at least gave the horse equivalent of shrugging, and silently laughed to himself; for despite only being six months old, barely in the world, Brian knew much more than he realized, and for this, the horse could not help but pity him. Parker wanted Brian to maintain a sense of innocence, to feel like he should at his age, to be curious but not analytical, to be happy and not philosophical; for those things could wait as far as he was concerned. It was more important to Parker that Brian experience life as it came in its course, to not know too much, yet just enough to make good choices.

"Brian" Parker said, sighing a bit as he aired his thoughts aloud, "Remind me to stop giving you life lessons for a bit."

Brian laughed and brushed him off, for Parker had said this many times as well, and each time he had always continued giving him small nuggets of life. The dog understood the horse's concerns, at times he felt as if he didn't belong anywhere and he attributed his rapid accumulation of knowledge to this fact.

"Why, so you can catch up to me?" Brian replied jokingly.

Parker huffed and snorted air Brian's way as his mind returned to Ollie and Winnie. In his head, the horse was smiling, grateful that some of his teaching had sunken in, even if it was the use of sarcasm and harsh banter. It gave him hope that no matter what obstacle Brian faced he would be ready, his weapon his words and wit.

Winnie pushed one last time just as the last one came out. McAllister smiled and gently petted Winnie's head once more, after which he casually ruffled Ollie's fur and embraced him, who in turn gave a courtesy lick and nudge. As he looked upon his children, Ollie could feel nothing but pride; his heart was full, his life once again complete.

"Congratulations buddy" McAllister said as he stood up, stretching a bit, "You should be proud of yourself, you did good work."

Ollie smiled in turn, too happy to bother with his real sympathies that he had with McAllister, being a dog of sense and good character and thus able to see the hidden ugliness that the farmer kept so well-guarded in times such as these.

"Thank you sir" he returned, "That means a lot coming from you. Now, if you don't mind I'll see to them now."

McAllister nodded and turned to Coco and the others, giving a slight wave and then departed to make his final rounds for the day. No sooner did he leave did everyone-including Parker, who had been let out by Brian and Harmony, another one of Brian's brothers- come to see the newborns. It was a strange yet wonderful sight, seeing the small, helpless and mostly pink mushes of flesh and goo that made the pups; for Brian it brought up several medical general knowledge terms that he had heard about from somewhere, thinking about the various diseases that they would likely contract and the chances of any of them living beyond a few weeks. It was a dark thought to be sure, but a realistic one in this case, for the majority of them had already begun to slip away, their bodies not strong enough to reach the milk that was desperately needed for nursing.

Ollie, moving as quickly as he could, gently pulled as many of them as he mouth would allow, towards Winnie's tits and promptly sighed in relief as they began to properly nurse and feed themselves, their mouths sucking endlessly and with no sign of stopping anytime in the near future. One of the pups who had not been picked up by Ollie was lying off to the side, already bent on exploring the world around it. Brian, being the closest one available to do anything about it, gently placed a paw in front of it, causing the pup to promptly turn around in its blindness, for it was largely relying on smell, and return to its mother.

"What shall we name them?" Ollie asked, turning to the group, for it was a barn tradition to include all those present in the naming process. The final result obviously, lay with the parents, but it was still at the very least, a fun game and one of the only times that they all came together for a common purpose, temporarily forgetting their differences and petty squabbles.

"I've always thought that Major would be a good name for a son" Coco began, starting the proceedings, "That or Colonel. Something with power."

Ollie laughed to himself, for such an answer was exactly the kind of thing that one would expect from Coco; if he could not have power himself, he at least wanted to feel as if the potential existed.

"What about Daly?" Harmony added, stepping in, adding yet another male name, as was tradition, the males being named first, "That's a good name."

Ollie considered the possibility, but ultimately ruled it out, for Daly was too much of a human name, a right that was reserved for the runt of the litter and always named by the mother. Still, he admired the effort and gently dug his paw into the dirt in approval, at the same time tending to the needs of one of his daughters.

By the time it was time for the runt, all the names had been selected and officially recognized. Out of the sons there was Major; Stymy; Turnabout; and Tic. The daughters, in order of birth, were: Tac; Blue-Bell; Q; and Misty. Most of the names and their utter ridiculousness was deliberate, the thinking being that in order for a dog to have a place in the world they had to possess a name that did not sound too human, lest it forget its place. The runts of the litter were the only exception to the rule, the reason is because it was often believed that the runt would either die before it came of age or become a stray. However, in the event that the runt somehow became successful, somehow integrating into human society, the possession of a human name gave it a fighting chance at a decent life.

Winnie stared at the runt, who now lay sleeping towards her head trying to come up with a name. Looking around the space and finding only Ollie, Parker and Brian had remained, the others having lost interest and going off to do other more interesting things, Winnie smiled and nodded to herself; almost as if she had guessed who would remain with her through the process.

"Thank you all" Winnie said as she closed her eyes, fighting sleep, "You don't know what this means."

Parker nodded, despite the fact that he disagreed, for he knew exactly how much this had meant. Gently leaning down and blowing air as he often did, Parker smiled and stared at the runt, admiring the way it slept as it kicked its legs, getting a feel for its reflexes.

"He's a fighter alright" Parker declared knowingly, "No way he'll go to the streets. No, this one's goanna make something of himself. Just like Brian."

Winnie, taking the words to heart, turned to Brian, who by this point, was wondering why it was that pups arrived with their eyes closed; or why the runt, who had scurried towards him, eager to explore and to see the world, had so readily accepted his position.

"Brian" Winnie continued, causing him to shake himself out of his own thoughts, "What do you think we should call him?"

Brian shook his head, for he had never been given this level of responsibility before nor did he have any ideas in regards to names. The only thing he could think of was his own mother and how happy she was in those first few months, how she had said that they were all, each in their own way, treasures of the world. Brian didn't know if he believed that or even if his mother believed it, but the word treasure had stuck with him, playing on a constant loop in his head, until finally, after a few minutes of deliberation with himself, Brian came up with an answer.

"Jasper" he declared, "Call him Jasper."

Ollie smiled and nudged Brian lovingly, for he could not think of a better name even if he had tried.

"Jasper" Ollie repeated, liking the way the name rolled off of his tongue, "An old Persian name for treasure; as well as a mineral, carried by the Wise Men. How appropriate."

Parker huffed and rolled his eyes, for that was the last thing he needed. He didn't say anything, for he knew it would be useless, but he still could not help but feel a little bit annoyed, not because of Ollie or even Brian, but because, in a small way, the moment had been tarnished by useless history and facts. It wasn't enough that a litter had been born and that the runt had to be given a human name, but that he had to be given an important name, a name that signified something, his place in the world. Still, there were worse things in the world to worry about other than the reason for names, and so Parker let it be.

It wasn't long until they all decided to retire to bed, Brian taking his place with Parker for the night; while Ollie and Winnie, along with their pups, took up the space they were currently in. Tomorrow would be another day, and with it, a series of firsts, both for Brian and the newly arrived Jasper; for that day would begin their story and the numerous adventures that came out of it.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two: The Family Business

Mid-July 1991, 5:30am

If there was one thing that Jasper was certain about it was that the world was a very strange and unusual place; of course, the only world he knew existed in the form of the four rickety barn walls that he was forbidden to leave, but it was still strange and unusual regardless. For example, the ground beneath him was sometimes hard and sometimes soft. The hard stuff, so he was told, was called dirt, and the soft stuff was called mud. The latter he enjoyed intensely, rolling around and splashing in the single puddle near the door of the barn where the rain had gathered in a hole for hours on end. There were of course, other things that interested him; among them being what lay in the rafters; if only because it was the only area in the barn that he, and everyone else, had never been able to reach. The idea of being first intrigued him, and thus, began a certain sense of exploration and discovery. Gently making his way out of the small nursery that had been constructed in the barn, in the very place he was born, which was little more than an enclosed space barricaded by a feeble and rather sad looking gate, Jasper casually sniffed the air around him and upon finding that things were relatively normal, continued towards the rafters on the other side of the barn. As he passed the horse pen, taking careful note of Parker, who still lay sleeping, Jasper thought about how nice it would be if the horse were allowed to participate and sit on the rafters and enjoy the view, for he seemed the type of person who would enjoy such things. Jasper found sad that Parker was so big and could not do many of the things he could do, but still, he guessed that there were some benefits to being a horse and so did not feel too terribly sorry.

Reaching the corner of the barn, Jasper found himself with no clear way of completing his objective conventionally; that is to say, the rafters were unreachable. Never one to be deterred or to back down from a challenge Jasper took the lessons that Parker and Ollie had taught him about perseverance and began to think of a way to get up without making too much noise and risk getting caught doing something he wasn't supposed to be doing. Looking around and seeing that the ladder that McAllister used for loft access was much too big for him to try alone, the dog, seeking other options, proceeded to push as many boxes as he could find and subsequently push them into the corner of the room. This, unsurprisingly, was not enough height to accomplish much of anything.

"There's no way I can do this by myself" Jasper said, keeping his voice down, "I need help, but who would care to help me?"

Jasper casually turned around and made his way back to the nursery examining his brothers and sisters as they slept, rather uncomfortably, in a large ball. He laughed as he wondered how many times Turnabout had kicked him in his sleep, or Q had tugged at his ear; furthermore, he wondered why they did it at all. True, Jasper had no illusions about himself, for he knew exactly what he was, he was no different than the rest of them, at least where it counted. No smarter, no stronger, and no kinder.

"They're much too happy" Jasper continued, "I'll leave them alone."

Sniffing the air to read his surroundings, Jasper selected Tic and Tac to be his helpers; if only because out of all of them they were the ones who were the easiest to manipulate. Rousing them by touching his cold nose to their muzzles, Jasper pulled them out of the nursey and onto the barn floor with such quickness that it was impossible for them to protest. Wiping their eyes and looking confused, for they were not used to being so rudely awakened, Tic and Tac yawned collectively, prompting Jasper to silence them, placing his paws over their mouths.

"Hush" Jasper exclaimed as he looked about the room, "I need you to be very quiet. Now, promise me that you won't make a sound."

Tic and Tac nodded, after which Jasper, having their full confidence, removed his paws and quickly gestured to the boxes he had stacked in the corner of the barn.

"See those boxes?" Jasper belayed, "I need you to stand on top of them and lift me up, that way I can get to the rafters-"

Tic stared worriedly at Tac, who shared his look as if they were mirror opposites of each other. Both of them, in their heads, were thinking that Jasper had gone temporarily insane and that this sudden wild streak was a result of bad food, lack of sleep, and paying too much attention to Ollie's stories- which were almost always lies- about his so-called daring feats of spectacle that were presented as truth.

"Stop looking at me like that" Jasper replied, "I know what I'm doing. It'll be easy. And when I'm up there you can go back to sleep or whatever it was you were doing."

Tic and Tac were not really sure why they agreed to allow Jasper to adventure up in the rafters; Tic would later say that it was to see his inevitable punishment, while Tac had always maintained that she wanted her brother to have all the things that he could possibly want. Regardless of their later reasoning, their current reasoning was born out of the desire to go back to bed, and so they enlisted themselves to Jasper's service.

While his siblings were busy pulling the large sacks of grain that McAllister had brought in on top of the boxes, Jasper himself was busy calculating in his head how many boxes it would take to reach the rafters at all. The dog, not being particularly good with numbers- for Turnabout had inherited those genes- and not wishing to involve him directly, turned to the next available option, if not necessarily the best. It was well known that out of the barn community, that is to say, those who slept in the barn: the dogs, Parker, and the secluded rooster Mr. Panhandle, it was Brian who was the most gifted when it came to vertical thinking; making him the perfect candidate for the job. But Jasper also knew that with this vertical thinking came a crushing realism, a mind that was almost devoid of all sense of adventure and exploration, a trait which, in many ways, barred him from assistance and thus eliminated him from service. Deciding against his better judgment to bring Brian on regardless of his thoughts Jasper resolved to continue alone casually inspecting his siblings' handiwork before dismissing them.

While Jasper continued his mission, Turnabout had roused himself awake, eager to face the morning inspection that had awaited him; a common practice, especially among new arrivals to the barn, in which each was inspected and sent to their assigned duties for the day. Looking about himself, Turnabout stumbled and faltered over Q and Misty, as well as Tic and Tac, who had crashed near the entrance once having completed their work, and squeezed himself out of the nursery and onto the barn floor. Dusting himself off, for in his escape effort he had managed to get incredibly dusty, Turnabout could not help but notice Jasper in his endeavor and how, having long given up on finding a support beam, was busy jumping on the highest point of the tower, a sack full of horse feed, his claws just out of reach of the rafters.

"You'll never get up there that way" Turnabout said as he made his approach, "You can't just jump, you got to leap."

Jasper, too busy jumping to properly answer him, ignored Turnabout; not out of rudeness rather due to determination. His mind rationalized that if he continued jumping in the same way that eventually he would succeed. This futile effort was not assisted by his small stature nor was it helped by the faltering tower, the horse feed bag failing in every regard to do the job asked of it, which it was never meant to perform in the first place.

"Hey" Turnabout continued, slowly making his way forward, curiosity and concern manifesting itself, "Did you hear me? I said you won't get nowhere that way."

Jasper continued jumping and antagonizing the wooden beam of the barn, an innocent beam, once part of a tree that had dreams of becoming a great and mighty shipping vessel, that would carry brave souls across the treacherous depths of the Atlantic, fueled by stories of Verne, Melville and London; and thus, ignored Turnabout's remarks, despite their helpfulness. And so, after watching Jasper fail a few more times, Turnabout decided to do the one thing that he had not yet done and help his brother.

Climbing up the tower, almost falling through one of the seed bags, Turnabout positioned himself below Jasper, ready to assist. At the same time, Jasper became aware of Turnabout's presence and promptly stopped his attempts, taking a moment to breathe.

"Can't quite make it huh?" Turnabout said, attempting to be playful.

Jasper nodded, for he was not so delusional as to admit his literal shortcomings, even if he was still too naive to consider quitting.

"What you need to do is grow a few inches" Turnabout declared, measuring Jasper with his paw as a well-meaning smile crept on his face, "Or given your eagerness, aim a bit lower."

It was a strange Turnabout thought that he even dared to suggest the idea of aiming low, referring to dreams and aspirations, when sitting on top of a homemade tower made of boxes and bags. If so much effort was put into the idea, that perhaps it was one worth pursuing. It was so strange in fact, that there was only one possible solution that would ease his mind and, at the same time, fulfill Jasper's desire. Pushing his head underneath Jasper's bottom and climbing on top of the highest feed bag, Turnabout proceeded, without much in the way of difficulty, to lift his brother to the rafters.

"How's the view?" Turnabout asked, laughing a bit, "Mine's not too good."

The view was about as normal and average as anyone would imagine; for the rafters were no different than other part of the barn, save for one distinguishing feature: the large window to the outside world. True, it was only the cow and pig pens, as well as a decent look at the farmhouse, but it also had the hills beyond- miles of pasture- as well as a small group of trees, which was the closest thing to a forest that one would receive. It also helped that just as Jasper lifted his head above the wooden beam that the sun, in all of its glorious magnificence, rose to greet the day.

"It's beautiful" Jasper declared, summoning the words that his heart had already spoken, "Simply beautiful."

Turnabout, for his part, could only smile, happy that his brother was happy, content to stay where he was in order to allow Jasper the moment he had desired since he had woken up. The same content however, could not be said for Jasper himself, who despite having achieved his long sought goal of twenty minutes, felt empty, as if there was a missing piece to the success. Turning towards Turnabout, Jasper smiled and leaned down.

"Wanna come up?" Jasper invited, "There's plenty of room."

Turnabout shook his head, for he had done more than enough for his part and did not wish to involve himself in Jasper's shenanigans and risk getting in trouble. Jasper however, refused him the luxury of retreat and subsequently used what strength he possessed, which was not much given his size, and hauled his brother onto the rafter.

"Jasper" Turnabout said, annoyed at the prospect of being in the loft, "Why can't you just take no for an answer?"

Jasper laughed, not oblivious to the fact that the word was not in his vocabulary, for on a matter of principle he believed that everything was worth doing. It was a flawed perspective, in that it lacked judgment and proper temperament, and yet despite this, Jasper's willingness to perform any task for its own sake was something to be admired; his certain sense of exploration extending far beyond literal interpretation and into symbolic and figurative meaning.

"Come on" Jasper exclaimed, pushing his brother on, "This'll be fun!"

Turnabout huffed and slowly began to hate himself, for inside his heart tinged a small glimmer of longing- the desire to seek and experience, which came with exploration.

"Your definition of fun is hazardous" Turnabout returned sharply, "Besides; some of us have chores to do."

The mentioning of chores was something that Jasper absolutely detested, if only because, being the runt of the litter, meant that he was stuck with what most would consider the shit work, in the most literal sense of the phrase. Mostly, Jasper's job consisted of rounding up the pigs to the feed trough, which included the misfortune of wading through mud, and given the nature of pigs, their droppings. It was work that was meant for McAllister and delegated to Jasper on account of his easily impressionable nature. In the case of the rest of the children, particularly Ollie's lot, their work was mostly house related, for they were still young enough where they could be spared most physical labor. The only real exception was Turnabout, whose eagerness to serve the farm physically refused to be denied; as a result, his duties, restricted to the barn, were related to cleanliness and well-being, a perfect beginning to his career as a sheepdog.

"Those chores can wait" Jasper continued, ignoring Turnabout and his excuses despite their validity, "Take some time for yourself."

"Don't you remember?" Turnabout stressed, "At sun's rise we wake the barn, have the slop that McAllister feeds us and then do our work. You corral pigs, I keep this place organized. We each owe it to the family to do our part."

While many found it strange that Turnabout had possessed such a work ethic at a young age, it was mostly due to necessity, for his siblings, including Jasper, were incredibly lazy and lax in their work when they decided to attempt it. This, in a way, was due to their age; Ollie in particular doting over them all as if they were fragile Italian Renaissance artifacts. It was to them a fact of life, one that Turnabout could not accept no matter how hard he had tried; for instilled in him was a desire to service and work, traits normally reserved for the eldest child. Turnabout found it unfortunate that out of all his litter he was the one who carried the most burdens, who shouldered all of the weight and responsibility and all of the failure that came with it. True, his job was simple and equally thankless as any other, but it was a job that he took pride in, which was more than he could say for the others.

"There's more to life than counting eggs and cleaning" Jasper declared, tired of Turnabout's moral and ethical superiority, "What about experiencing things?"

Turnabout sighed, for it seemed absolutely ridiculous that he was spouting about life and its apparent meaning when the only life he knew existed within the confines of the barn. Still, if only to appease him and to knock him down a few pegs, Turnabout obliged and answered Jasper question.

"Considering that neither of us have any experience with anything you should welcome the opportunity to learn" Turnabout replied, "You're not going to be anything staring out a window."

With this, Turnabout took his leave and proceeded down the precarious tower. Jasper, for his part, said nothing and turned to face the window. As the sun rose to greet the day, and barn community woke up of both its own accord and Turnabout's rousing, Jasper hummed and whistled to himself. Yet, as the barn began to stir, so too did the farm, and the house beyond, as McAllister began his daily routine and the morning inspection.


End file.
